Friday 30 November 2018


A poem I was moved to write by something I observed at the Sidecar gig. No matter how absorbed in the music I am part of me is still taking in my environment and watching Ryley Walker at Sidecar the other night I was aware of two people arguing to my left. That is the genesis of this post's poem. 

Blink and miss it beauty
the kind that winds you in
falls, lifts, time changes,
a labyrinth in sound.
She moves, eyes closed,
spins on the spot, amazed,
almost synchronised
but here’s the Minotaur,
patience paper thin,
as you can tell by his face.
She flees through the maze of people.

They will stand by a wall
and she will talk and he will listen
as the gig ends without them.
He buys her a tour shirt
some kind of peace offering,
to paper over the cracks only they know.
I am standing behind him
in the merchandising queue thinking
it’s too little, too late.

The photographs are of murals in Vic, Catalunya. 

On Wednesday I went to Bristol, to the Fleece to see Ryley Walker again. If anything he was even better than last time.
Here's some footage of him playing Roundabout, sterling stuff.

Until next time.

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